"It was a dreadful moment. Never until now had her piety been revealed to me in all its depth and fervour. I consoled her, I exhorted her. For eight days we watched her with the greatest anxiety. Finally, her youth saved her.
"I cannot describe to you, monsieur, the frightful state of mind of the count during this illness. One night, when we had given up all hope of saving the sick woman, he terrified me, for, by some words which escaped him, I realised that, should death be the result of this illness, he would throw himself from the region of high aspirations and generous sentiments into an abyss of the greatest perversity, and in that moment I believed in the reality of all the stories I had heard told about the count. At last l'Ange Marie was restored to health. Little by little beauty returned to this noble and charming face, where remorse for a great fault and the consciousness of a great happiness constantly struggled for supremacy. Ah, monsieur, as I have said, I had fully determined never to return to that house, fearing to compromise my dignity, but I continued to go there. I was wrong, no doubt, but perhaps in the sight of God I may be forgiven, for that woman and the count were so charitable to the poor. Thanks to him and thanks to her, I was enabled to do so much good that I have faith in the pardon of God for not having repulsed the hand that scattered abroad his alms with so much kindness and discernment.
"And then, poor priest as I was, I loved science, I was a student, and there was no one in the village with whom I could converse, while in the count I discovered one of the most brilliant intellects I have ever encountered, I will not say among men, for I am very inexperienced in men and things, but in the books that I had read. His learning was vast, profound, and almost universal. He appeared to have travelled a great deal, and yet not to have neglected public life, for when by chance we would discuss some political question, he would discourse with a powerful and energetic conciseness. His judgment was clear, penetrating, and went straight to the point; but strange to say, whether from reflection, indifference, or contempt, he appeared to be devoid of all party prejudice or sentiment of caste; it amounted to what you might call a frightful impartiality. What alarmed and shocked me the most was that I never heard him pronounce a single word which might lead one to believe that he entertained the slightest faith in any form of religion. Although it was tacitly understood between us that we were never to discuss religious opinions, it would sometimes happen, in the course of the conversation, he would let fall some words on these formidable questions which would seem so coldly disinterested that I should, for the hope of his salvation, have preferred an attack or a denial of these eternal truths; for then his conversion might have seemed possible at some future time, whereas this icy indifference left me no hope on that subject.
"And yet his conduct was a practical example of the most splendid application of the principles of Christianity, it was the spirit without the letter. Neither did I ever hear between him and l'Ange Marie any religious conversation whatever, although their child was piously reared by its mother in our faith. Though I have frequently seen the count's eye moistened with tears when the woman he loved would join the hands of this little angel and make it repeat its prayer to God, I think his emotion was caused more by the sight of the beautiful face of the child, and the innocent accents of its voice, than by any devotional words it may have uttered.
"The lady had received a solid and varied education. She had a remarkable mind, and, above all, an ineffable indulgence which reached all classes.
"If the count, whose speech was sometimes biting or sarcastic, attacked some person or event, contemporaneous or historical, she would always try to discover in the vilest soul, or the saddest event, some kindly feeling, some generous instinct, which might serve as an excuse. Then tears would come into my eyes as I fancied it must be self-reproach, an unceasing remorse, which rendered this poor woman so forgiving to every one, as though, feeling her own guiltiness, it was not for her to raise her voice in accusation of whomsoever it might be.
"And the count, monsieur, if you could have seen with what profound and respectful tenderness he addressed her! How he would listen to her! With what delicate pride he knew how to appreciate and draw out all that was great and noble in the mind and heart of the one he loved so well! How his face would beam, at the sight of her! Many a time I have seen him thus silently gaze on her, and then, as though words failed him to express his admiration, he would join his hands and raise his eyes to heaven, with a look of indescribable happiness.
"Ah, monsieur, how many long and happy evenings have I thus passed in the intimacy of these two persons, so culpable and yet so virtuous! How many times has this fatal and bizarre contrast almost troubled my reason! How many summer evenings, in quitting them, have I, instead of returning to the presbytery, gone to wander on the mountain slopes, to meditate in silence in the sight of God alone! 'Oh, Lord,' cried I, 'how impenetrable are thy ways! This woman is an adulteress, and is fully conscious of her fault, since she constantly deplores it. She is very guilty in thy sight and in the sight of men, and yet, what life could be more exemplary, more beneficent, more practically touching and virtuous, than the one she leads? How many times have I not heard her chanting hymns in thy praise, in a voice so filled with religious fervour as to carry conviction of her faith! Oh, dear Lord, what dangerous things are vice and crime, when they clothe themselves under such deceptive appearances! Must we hate them more? Ought we to have pity on them? Should they not deserve our pardon? And he, that strange man who says he has no faith in our religions, of what religion is he? What can be that ignored religion which imposes on him a life of such goodness and generosity, which makes him so humane, which causes him to be loved and blessed by every one? From what unknown source does he derive those principles of a wise and far-reaching charity? And yet they say that he has respected nothing that men hold holy and sacred, that he has trampled underfoot every law of social life. And it must be true, for if his love of to-day is unlawful, his former life was more criminal still; they say so, and I believe it; for, as by a flash of lightning one can see the immensity of the abyss, so, in that fearful moment in which he feared to lose the one he loved, I had penetrated into the depths of his soul, and I had shuddered with terror. And yet his conduct has never given the lie to the nobility of his sentiments. Oh, God, thy ways are impenetrable!' I repeated more undecided than ever, as I humbled myself before the mysterious designs of Providence. I was soon to have a terrible proof of how his inexorable justice inevitably reaches the guilty.
"Alas! monsieur, my tale is nearing its end, and that end is a frightful one.
"Three months ago, one evening, I was talking with my sister about an occurrence which had greatly alarmed me. Two peasants had assured me that they had seen an old man, with white hair and black eyebrows, whose face was the colour of copper, and who appeared to be very vigorous for his age, climb over the wall of the count's garden. Soon afterwards they had heard two pistol-shots. I had just made up my mind to go and find out what it all meant, when some one came rushing in and begged me to go with all speed to the count. Ah, monsieur, imagine my terror! I found the count and the lady, each one pierced by a ball. One of the two shots had also reached the poor little child, who was lying in the sleep of death in his cradle.